


Master's Pup, Bard Extraordinaire

by ambersagen, amberwings (ambersagen)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dry Humping, Fluff, Leg Humping, M/M, Master Vesemir, Pet Jaskier, Pet Play, Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Pup Jaskier, Pure Smut, Vesemir takes care of his pups, bottom jaskier, minor embarrasment, soon followed by not so minor lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/amberwings
Summary: “I think you’re more of a Pup, aren’t you lad? Looking for a belly rub, a firm hand to hold your leash.”
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Vesemir
Comments: 9
Kudos: 163





	Master's Pup, Bard Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ana_Kagetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ana_Kagetsu/gifts).



> Merr Christler, I hope everyone enjoys this gift.   
> Tw: Jaskier is a bit embarrassed at first because he has never done this before, but this is all super consensual and Vesemir is a good Pet Master.

“I guess Geralt wasn’t joking when he said you follow like an especially loyal dog.”

The words were, on the surface, harsh. But they were delivered with no malice, only curiosity and, perhaps, a touch of anticipation as Vesemir gestured for Jaskier to enter the bedchamber and close the door behind him.

He eyed the bard, who had quietly followed him from the main hall at Kaer Morhen when the old Witcher had excused himself from drinking for the night. Let the younger Witchers deal with hangovers every morning, he was content with just the occasional indulgence.

And it wasn’t like he was oblivious to the young human’s interest.

Working out exactly what Geralt’s tag along was after had been only a little effort. Vesemir was well aware of the picture he cut, and although he had initially pegged the boy as wanting a Daddy, he hadn’t missed the little shiver of want that shook through the lad every time he called his boys pups.

The bard was a kinky bastard after all, and if he was truly up for what Vesemir expected tonight then they were both about to get very lucky indeed.

“Although,” he dragged the tension out, settling himself comfortably at his armchair by the fireplace, which had been stoked earlier that evening and now gave off a pleasant but low warmth. “You’re not such a beast. There's no wolf in you, not like my trainees. Those boys need a firm hand, and a reinforced kennel to keep them out of trouble. No,” he mused, scratching his beard as he considered the increasingly embarrassed human standing in front of him. “I think you’re more of a Pup, aren’t you lad? Looking for a belly rub, a firm hand to hold your leash.”

Vesemir leaned back, posture open and legs kicked out with the ease and confidence of a predator in its own den, but there was nothing relaxed in his hungry gaze. It had been a while since the last time a pretty boy had offered to keep him company for the night, and he intended to make the most of it.

“Are you going to come to heel for me as well?”

Finally , Jaskier stepped forward, eyes never leaving the keen yellow of the old man’s. He saw the way they darkened, yellow disappearing into a thin ring as Vesemir no doubt scented the arousal pouring off him.

His legs were weak as he felt the reality of the situation hit him. He had spent weeks in the old keep, learning the ways of his friend’s family when they were at the closest thing they had to a home. Most importantly, he had been unable to do anything but be painfully aware of the man his friend practically called father. From the moment he had first laid eyes on the eldest of the Wolves, Jaskier had been lost to a haze of longing and lust.

And now here he was, having finally got up the courage to slip himself into the room of his best friend’s father in hope of…something. A good fuck to be sure, but now he dared hope for something even better. He could see the old Witcher taste the scent of him as he breathed in deeply, clicking his tongue in interest as Jaskier stepped forward and stopped just in front of him.

“Kneel boy.”

Jaskier dropped to the ground, head rolling back as he fell into the familiar position, knees tucked in neatly, arms behind his back as he showed the Witcher his neck. His pants felt uncomfortably tight and for a moment he desperately wished he was already nude, kneeling bare at his master’s feet.

“I see.” Appreciative eyes swept over him, a casual hand reaching out to drag a thumb along the pulse point just under his skin. Jaskier swallowed, his eyes almost rolling back in his head at the restrained strength he could feel in those hands

“Beautiful form, but I don’t think it’s quite right for what you hoped for tonight, is it Puppy?”

Jaskier’s stomach did something weird, like a warm swoop of ale but burning with need and not alcohol. Yes, this was what he wanted, what he had jerked off to every night after hearing the old training master heckle and dote on his pups in equal measure.

“Good boys kneel all pretty like this, don’t they?” Vesemir said with a pleased rumble. “But I know good Pups need to be on all fours or they might fall over. And I think that’s what you hoped for tonight, isn't it? To be a good dog for master? So. Down boy.”

Jaskier fell forward onto his hands and knees so fast he almost tasted the floor, and Vesemir chuckled. To Jaskier’s delight his enthusiasm was rewarded with a hand hand dragging through his hair, and he pressed shamelessly up into the touch, dipping his back and giving his raised ass a small wiggle to test the waters. He wanted it, to be master’s good dog, but he was worried. Actually, he was shocked the old Witcher had read him like a book and decided to play along so far, but the man had been surprisingly agreeable about it, and he was getting a bit anxious to pay him back.

He groaned, the feeling of fingers scratching along his head, dipping every so often behind his ear, was simply divine, and his erection was growing painful at the thought of maybe getting some petting of its own.

“Hmm. Poor Puppy. Seems like you need some help there, Pup.”

Jaskier whined, knowing his face was cherry red, but he didn’t care. Every word the old Witcher said to him was like sparks straight down to his groin. He wanted it _so badly_.

A leg was nudged firmly in front of him, and he blinked, tilting his head to look up through his hair at Vesemir. His whole body was a question mark as he tentatively put a hand on the offered knee, he didn’t trust himself to speak without begging to be fucked.

“Well?” Vesemir raised an eyebrow at the kneeling bard, much the same way he did when Geralt or his brothers did something he deemed somewhat dull-headed of them during training. “Up you get pup. We have no bitches here for you, so if your little dick needs to fuck something you can hump my leg like a naughty dog.”

Jaskier let out a shocked whine, longing and shame hitting him like a slap in the face as he stared at the boot covered leg in front of him, eyes flicking nervously between it and the Witcher’s encouraging face. There was nothing to be ashamed of then, right? They both wanted this. But still, he had never gotten this far before, and he didn't want to do something wrong in his eagerness. 

“Hmm. You're a young pup still I suppose." Vesemir looked him slowly up and down with exaggerated consideration that made Jaskier feel trembly and small. This was why he wanted the Witcher. He knew Vesemir would only guide him to be the best he could. "You’ll learn. Up you get, Pup. Mount up.” He patted his thigh, a clinical look in his eyes as he waited expectantly for his orders to be followed.

Shaking with desire and adrenaline, still unsure if this was real or not, Jaskier raised up on his knees, looking for approval as he awkwardly pressed closer to Vesemir’s leg.

“Oh Pup. Have you never mounted a bitch in your whole life?” Vesemir sighed, and Jaskier shrunk down at his disappointment, unable to look the Witcher in the eyes. Of course he had fucked bitc- _women_ before. But that was nothing like whatever this was. He had never felt the need to be pet and praised by partner before now. Nobody else had ever made him long to be scruffed, muzzled and collared like an animal so he didn't have to think or talk anymore. He never wanted to submit like a dog and let someone fuck him into the ground before laying eyes on this man.

A firm hand wrapped around the back of his neck and he shivered, mouth dropping open a little as he was effortlessly and firmly pulled closer until he was essentially draped over the Witcher’s thigh. He could feel his dick pressing against the fully clad leg as Vesemir’s knee tucked in right at his navel.

He whined, loudly, as was his want in bed. He had never been a quiet fuck, not for anything. Head spinning with need he felt hot all over, flushed with arousal and prickling with anticipation as he gave an experimental thrust.

“There we go. Hump all you like, Pup.” His head was being scratched again and he shivered all over. He was really going to do this? Hump this mans leg like a horny dog? Oh he was, he _really_ was.

And he did, rocking his fully clothed dick against the old Witcher’s boot, until he was panting wetly against linen breaches and he was whining in frustration because it felt so good but it wasn’t enough!

The hand had migrated down the small of his back, pulling him closer with each desperate thrust he gave.

“Ah, silly little Pup," Vesemir said, fondly. "You forgot something. Here, let Master give you a hand, Pup.”

The Witcher tugged at the bard’s trousers, and Jaskier gasped as a strong warm hand reached in to pull out his dick. He felt sweat dripping down his temple as he looked up at Vesemir with wide eyes. The old Witcher chuckled, giving Jaskier a few firm strokes.

“Gotta unsheathe your dick, Puppy. There’s a good boy." He let go, leaning back to enjoy the show now that the bard's dick was hanging free of his half done trousers. "Now try.”

Jaskier whined, hands convulsing with the urge to push the hand back down to his dick, but Vesemir gave him a firm swat on the rump when he noticed. “Come on. You aren’t getting more. Now be a good dog and hump my leg.”

He did.

Like a dog fucking a bitch in heat he humped Vesemir's leg. The well worn linen dragged almost painfully against his cock, and he left horrible wet patches on the fabric as he rocked his hips forward in short, desperate thrusts. He could hear the Witcher rumbling approvingly, and the knowledge that the old man was watching him lose himself like a desperate dog finally tipped him over and he gave a high pitched yelp of shock as he came straight onto Vesemir's boot.

He went boneless, all energy completely drained out through his dick. Jaskier sagged forward, and felt himself begin to slide off, but the scene had left him floating and fuzzy, unable to control his muscles anymore and helpless to stop it. Strong arms caught him before he hit the floor, Vesemir scooped him up like he weighed nothing.

The room swayed gently as he was moved to the bed, only aware enough to tell when he was set down somewhere soft and warm. He was pretty sure his pants were fully removed and he had been wiped down at least, but all he could tell for sure was that he was being pet all over and that there was more skin showing than before. Which made it all the more surprising when a clean shirt was pulled down over his head.

He wiggled, confused and a little worried. “Wha-master?” His voice came out soft, like a puppy’s whimper, and that felt right somehow. “Dogs don’t wear...shirts?”

“Hmm. My good boy wears whatever I like him in. You’re still pretty far under. Hush, and let Master worry about taking care of you.”

He gave a whine of agreement, letting sleep take him as a large, warm weight settled down in beside him and hands began to pet his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are all I live for and you can come yell at me on tumblr at ambersagen.tumblr.com


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